


Let Me Take Care of You

by theheartofadetective



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlolly, F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartofadetective/pseuds/theheartofadetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although Sherlock would like to show Molly he isn't always selfish, he has trouble seeing her perspective. Molly would like to be equal with him, and share the responsibilities together as a way of expanding their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Take Care of You

When Molly looked up from her paperwork, she noticed that Sherlock had just come through the doors. A smile lit up her face as she stood up and walked over to him.

She stood on her tiptoes, her face just an inch or two from his as she waited. Her eyes fluttered closed as a smirk appeared on his lips and he met hers for a chaste kiss.

“Evening, Mr Holmes,” Molly smiled as she looked into his icy blue pools.

“Dr Hooper,” he said, nodding in reply before moving his lips against hers again.

A flutter enveloped in Molly’s stomach as she turned away from him to go back to her paperwork. Sherlock sat on the stool beside her, taking out something to examine under the microscope. To say that she was happy was an understatement.

She still was surprised that it had happened. When Molly helped Sherlock fake his death and helped him to take down the rest of Moriarty’s network, they had grown very close. It was something Molly had always hoped for but never expected. Sherlock had let her in, and somehow, she had fallen even more in love with him than she had before. They had been in a relationship for a while now, and Sherlock seemed to embrace the idea rather than repel it like before.

Sherlock had convinced her finally to move into 221B Baker Street. John had been moved out for a while now and was living with Mrs Mary Watson. They had been married for just a few months. Sherlock found himself void of a flatmate, and he also realised that he wanted to see her more, and wanted her to come _home_ to Baker Street at night. He justified it with logical reasoning, but Molly knew under his calculating appearance, there was sentimental value.

It was new to her; before she moved in with him, she spent a lot of nights sleeping there. But last night was the first night being a permanent resident. It felt nice, homey- of course, Sherlock had left an even bigger atrocity after John left, but she would fix it up while still leaving 221B’s appearance and personality within it. Now that it was fresh in her mind, she wanted to talk about it. Sherlock had been putting off talking about the money part of it.

Molly bit at her lip, hoping that he would actually comply with the conversation rather than brushing it off. She wanted to put her fair share into the flat. “So… when shall I give you my share of the rent?” she asked awkwardly.

Sherlock looked up as he was broken from his concentration, but then went back to his work as he spoke to her. “You won’t. You don’t need to pay anything.”

Molly’s eyes narrowed for a second in confusion as she replied: “But, you pay rent, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then… why wouldn’t I be paying anything?”

“Because it will be taken care of.”

Molly’s lips pressed together in a hard, flat line, her brow furrowing. “But- I thought that moving in meant a new level, like sharing financial responsibilities.”

“Yes, but it is all set, as I have been able to pay on my own for the past few months, so I am able to continue to do so.” Sherlock was confused by her reaction; he thought it would have made her happy that he was trying to be less selfish and do something kind for her.

“That’s not the point. I was able to afford a flat on _my_ own… I didn’t move in with you for a free ride,” Molly said, hands on her hips and irritation evident in her tone. She was panicking a little now; it was only the first full day they were living together and they were already arguing about it.

She got even more upset when she realised that he was staring fully into the microscope now, straying away from the conversation. “Sherlock?” she said, and then repeated a bit louder when he didn’t hear it the first time.

“John?” he said at first, still not looking at her, “Molly,” he then corrected quickly.  

Now she was getting frustrated; it was not the first time he had done that. She understood that his work was one of the most important things in his life, and she wasn’t going to stop him from doing it. But this was important to her and he wasn’t even listening. She wanted him to understand why she wanted to pay her share. It was like talking to a wall sometimes. He would only listen to you if he decided that he wanted to.

“Nevermind,” she grumbled, standing up from her work station. She sighed and Sherlock finally realised that she was upset. His eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked up and forgot about what was under the microscope.

“Molly?”

She walked around, her space cleaned up as she gathered up the rest of her things. She let out another sigh before she spoke again: “Just forget it, okay? We can- just talk about it later, ta? I have plans with Mary anyway. I’ll be home… sometime tonight.”

She looked at Sherlock, at least wanting him to say bye before she left, but he was still silent. He looked at her, still confused, distracted as he tried reanalysing the conversation to figure out his mistake.

Molly pinched the bridge of her nose, only more annoyed now. “Bye, Sherlock,” she said, disappearing behind the door.

Molly understood that he was new to the relationship thing, and living together was going to be something new that they experienced together, but it scared her that it was day one and this was already frustrating.

She wanted to live with him- of course she did, she loved him unconditionally. That didn’t mean it wasn’t terrifying to be upset on her first night away from her own flat, and she couldn’t go running to it to get away from everyone else. She reprimanded herself for not being more persistent with Sherlock before she agreed to move in.

* * *

 

 

By the time Molly got to the bar she was beyond irritated. Not only had she tripped on her way out of the hospital and embarrassed herself in front of her colleagues, but she forgot her bag in the cab and spent a good forty minutes trying to get it back.

She came up quietly and sat next to them- apparently just ‘Mary’ had turned into ‘with the other girls.’ She ordered a drink as she listened to their conversation. At the same time she was fuming over her annoyance with the night. They were updating each other on whatever was going on in their lives until they remembered Molly’s big relationship jump.

“Soooo…” Sarah dragged out as she turned to Molly, bringing the other girls attention to her. “How did everything go moving in with Sherlock?”

Molly smiled shyly; a slight blush in her face as she looked down at her hands… this would be her third cherry vodka. She was feeling a bit buzzed as it began to hit her. “Well.” she lied, looking up to them now and forcing her smile bigger. “Really well.”

She let her face drop as the girls turned back to each other and continued to converse about what they had been talking about before. All except for Mary; Mary was her best friend, so she noticed right away that she was lying.

Molly’s mood seemed to lift though a few drinks later when she was at about the point of drunk. Drunk enough to convince her to go to the club across the street.

Molly found that she was dancing and laughing with her friends, and enjoying herself, but there was only so much alcohol she could drink before she was a bit too wobbly to dance.

When she gave up on that idea, she began to pull Mary with her, giggling as she went. She was walking towards the stools at the bar within the club when she saw a tall man with curly hair. Molly had stopped so abruptly that Mary crashed into her. Mary rubbed her nose as she looked over. “Molly?”

Molly didn’t hear what she said as she walked up to the man. “Sherlock?” she said, tapping him on the shoulder.

When he turned around, it wasn’t Sherlock at all. It was someone who had hair not quite as curly, not quite dark enough, but easily mistakable in a dark club and in a drunken state. “Sorry,” she mumbled, almost falling over as the guy caught her.

As she looked to him again, he eyed her up and down and then leaned so that his lips were next to her ear. “I could be Sherlock if you’d like. You fancy detectives, then?”

Molly was more than definitely all set. She made a face of disgust before pulling away. She walked around, letting the clutter of bodies hold her up as she made her way through the crowd trying to find Mary. She gave up on that as she began to feel dizzy.

After finding her way out of the club entrance, she shot a quick text to Mary to let her know she was leaving early and that she was fine. She leaned up against the wall to hold her balance as she scrolled over another name in her phone.

Molly sighed as she realised that she missed Sherlock, and felt silly for wanting to run home to her old flat. They moved in together because they wanted to see each other more and she knew Sherlock wanted her to be able to call Baker Street _home._ To have his home be hers; to share it with her. She wanted more than ever now to go home to be with him.

* * *

 

Sherlock plucked at his violin as he thought. After leaving the morgue he had gone to see John. In which he spent five minutes rolling his eyes when John teased him for asking for help, because he was always reluctant to do so. And John wondered why…

_“You really don’t see why she’s upset with you?” John asked._

_“Would I be here asking you otherwise?” Sherlock asked bitterly._

_“Well, first of all you called her_ John _, so you weren’t listening.” John began, but continued before Sherlock could interrupt him with a smart ass comment. “And she wants to feel like it is her home as much as it is yours, not like she’s crashing with you.”_

_“She isn’t,” Sherlock said, as if it was obvious. “It is just unnecessary to give me money.”_

_John sighed. “Sherlock, how would you feel if she was paying for everything and you were paying nothing?”_

_“Well…” he began._

_“I think she wants to feel she takes cares of you as much as you want to take care of her.”_

_“Oh,” was all Sherlock could manage to say, finally understanding the other perspective._

Sherlock looked down at the end table beside him to see his mobile vibrating against it. Molly’s name was across the screen.

“Hi,” Molly said a bit sadly, a slight whine in her voice.

She was drunk; he knew the second she spoke that she was. She didn’t do it very often, but it was very clear when she did. “Molly?” he waited.

“I’m home _,”_ she said as he could hear her ruffling through her bag. She couldn’t find her keys, and was probably disoriented. He sighed; glad she was home safe and hung up the phone, making his way down the stairs.

When he opened the door, the cab was already down the street. Molly would have given him a much larger sum than she would have if sober. She was not cheap, but tried to be frugal with her money. She was leaning against the lamp post, and as soon as she realised it was him coming out the door a bright smile lit up her face.

As she leaned off of the post, she fumbled into him, leaning into his chest as he held her up. She giggled as she kissed the tip of his chin. “Hello.”

“Can’t walk _and_ can’t find your keys, Molly?” he teased, one side of his mouth creeping up into a smirk.

Molly pouted, her bottom lip out as she looked at him, her brows furrowing. “Missed you too,” she said as she almost fell over again. He caught her though, scooping her up into his arms and walking in the door.

As he walked up the stairs, she began pressing light kisses along his jaw and under his chin. “I’m sorry I was upset with you,” she said, sinking against his chest.

As much as he wanted to seem neutral, he found amusement in her drunken state. He wouldn’t ever use the word, but it was cute.  “I do believe the person who made the mistake is supposed to be the one to apologise, Molly.”

“Well,” she began, thinking now as she stopped kissing him, “that’s true. I am still upset with you. But, I realised…” she trailed off, letting it hang there.

He paused when he walked into the second door, an eyebrow raised as he looked down at her. “Realised…?”

“I just realised,” she said, nudging her nose into his chest as she closed her eyes, inhaling. She always loved the way he smelled; it was comforting to her, familiar. She didn’t finish her sentence as she was starting to fall asleep.

Sherlock sighed as he carried her to their bedroom, placing her gently on her side of the bed. But as he went to walk away, Molly grabbed his hand. When he turned around her eyes were still closed, but she gripped his hand tighter. “No…” she whined, dragging out the word. “I don’t want to go to sleep while I’m upset with you.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “You don’t seem very upset with me.”

“Sober Molly is,” she remarked. She moved over onto the other side of the bed as she tugged his hand again, signalling him to lie down next to her.

When he did, Molly opened her eyes, inching herself closer to him. They both lay on their sides, facing each other, but she waited patiently. She held her eyes open wide every once in a while, trying to fight off sleep.

Sherlock sighed as he grazed his thumb over her jaw, trying to find the right words to apologize. “I was wrong and didn’t listen.”

Molly was silent as Sherlock realised she was starting to fall asleep again. He remained quiet. She was inevitably going to fall asleep soon and they could have the conversation in the morning. But after a long minute, she rolled on top of him, deciding that she needed to be in a new position to keep herself awake. She straddled his lap as she pushed down on his shoulders to hold herself up.

She lowered herself a bit as Sherlock let her do what she needed, watching amusedly as her forehead touched his, their noses brushing. “You were trying to be chivalrous and show me that you can be selfless,” she pointed out. “In which I love you for that, you sweet git,” she kissed the tip of his nose.

“You’re defending me, then?” he asked curiously.

“I am merely stating what I observed from the situation, mister consulting detective.”

“Ah…” he said. “So deducing then, are we?” he smirked.

“Obviously,” she mocked, but couldn’t contain her giggle as Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Give me a flask of cherry vodka and call me Sherlock Holmes,” she buried her face against his neck, trying to stifle her laughter.

It subsided though when Molly felt Sherlock cup her chin and made her look at him, his expression serious now. “I am sorry, Molly.”

“It’s okay,” she said gently, rolling back onto her side again, but leaving herself pressed up close against him. “I just want this to be like…” she hesitated, biting her lip as she tried to find the right phrasing.

“You’re taking care of me as much as I try to care of you?” he asked, quoting his friends wise words, though he would never admit that.

“Exactly,” she said with a relieved sigh as she laced her fingers with his, giving Sherlock a small kiss.

“Shall we each pay half the rent then?” he asked, trailing his index finger along her lip before pulling her mouth to his.

“That’s perfect,” she said when she pulled back, tucking her head under his chin.   

He ran his fingers through her hair as Molly started falling asleep again. His breathing began to slow to match hers and he started falling asleep as well.

He was stirred though when she nuzzled her nose against his neck. “I love you,” she said with grogginess in her voice.

“I love you too,” he replied softly, kissing the top of her head.

They both fell asleep together, their heart rates beating similarly, and Molly contented that she could be perfectly happy and feel perfectly equal living on Baker Street with him. She could not have asked for anything better. 


End file.
